


Stories of Home

by equivalent_exchange



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Battle Couple, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equivalent_exchange/pseuds/equivalent_exchange
Summary: “Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. How you doing there, kiddo? Bet you’ve been giving your Mandad over there some hell, huh?”“Don’t encourage him. You know he understands more than he lets on,” the Mandalorian replies with all the exasperation a caretaker of a toddler can manage. He glances down at said toddler, who is looking back at him with his wide, dark, and seemingly innocent eyes.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 195





	1. Room for One More?

A lone figure leaned back against an off-white pillar decorated with scorch marks from recent blaster fire, head tilted upwards toward the sky, as if expecting something to emerge through the gray clouds any moment.

\----

The Child lets out an excited coo as the _Razor Crest_ swiftly descends toward the familiar gray planet. Sitting in his guardian’s lap, he turns to look up at the man expertly piloting the ship and coos again, trying to grab his attention.

The Mandalorian acknowledges his foundling with a slight tilt of the head, “That’s right you little womp rat, we’re back again. Hopefully, the last time for a while. Need to refuel and gather more supplies. Rest up for a few days and enjoy some decent food for a change. And if it works out, we might have a friend coming along, too.”

The Child’s ears perk up at the mention of a friend, head tilting in curiosity, staring at his guardian for a moment before turning back to the viewport.

Guiding the ship through the atmosphere and toward the settlement on Nevarro was second nature. The Mandalorian had been here countless times during his time as a bounty hunter working for Greef Karga. Since the incident with Moff Gideon, they’ve only been back a handful of times. Searching for the Child’s people wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped, so when credits and supplies ran low, he had no choice but to return and collect a bounty puck or two from his old boss.

Nearing the settlement, he broke through the clouds, flew low before engaging the landing gear and touching down in the open field. After powering down the ship, the pair descended the ladder and prepared to disembark.

Mando activated the Child’s retrofitted hover carrier, calling it to him before placing the Child inside along with a blanket and stuffed toy.

During his first return to Nevarro after searching for the Child’s people, Mando was shocked, to say the least, when he was gifted with the hover carrier Kuill had built during his short time on the _Razor Crest_. The carrier seemed to be in perfect working order; cleaned, padded, and even armored with blaster resistant duristeel. While not as strong as beskar, he was relieved that the Child had reliable transportation and protection again as opposed to the makeshift hover box he had been using previously.

With the Child safely in the carrier, Mando slung his Amban rifle over one shoulder, canvas bag over the other, checked his munitions, then finally lowered the ramp to make their way towards the settlement.

As they approached the stone archway, Mando noticed a figure in the distance under the archway’s shadow, leaning against one of the pillars. He also noticed two corpses lying in the dirt, wondering to himself who in their right mind would try and piss her off and expect to get away with it.

\----

She watched as the _Razor Crest_ descended from the clouds and make an easy landing, as she expected. A small smirk graced her lips as she saw their silhouettes in the distance steadily approach her; an armored man with a rifle over his shoulder and round hover carrier in tow, the Child’s big green ears flopping in the light breeze.

When the Child recognized her, he excitedly stood in his carrier, smile on his face, slight bounce on his feet as he raised his arms at her, asking to be picked up. The man clad in the silver beskar armor softly, but sternly warned the boy, “Hey, be careful. I know you’re excited to see her, but you don’t want to fall out, do you, _ad’ika_?”

The pair stopped when they were within an arm’s reach, and she couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the exchange.

She finally pushed herself from the pillar, and grabbed the Child from his carrier, bouncing him slightly in her grasp before settling him against her side and greeted the pair, “Well, well, well. Look who _finally_ decided to show up. How you doing there, kiddo? Bet you’ve been giving your Mandad over there some hell, huh?”

“Cara, don’t encourage him. You know he understands more than he lets on,” Mando replies with all the exasperation a caretaker of a toddler can manage. He glances down at the toddler, who is looking back at him with his wide, dark, and seemingly innocent eyes.

“What are you doing out here anyways?” he asked Cara, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side.

“Waiting for you two, obviously. Thought it’d be nice to meet you at the gate, I guess. Took you guys long enough,” she responds cheekily, eyebrow raised, as if daring him to say any different.

Mando nods his head in the direction of the two bodies lying a few feet away, “Got bored and played target practice, did you?” he jokes, he doesn’t recognize the bodies, but knows Cara wouldn’t kill unless provoked.

She glances over to the bodies, shakes her head, “Just a couple of newbie hunters trying to make a name for themselves. They somehow caught wind of the bounty on my head for the New Republic and thought they could hit two birds with one stone - take out Greef’s muscle to earn a reputation and collect the bounty. Didn’t work out so nicely for them, though.”

“The bounty’s still out on you? I thought Greef had fixed your chain code?” irritation seeping from his modulated voice.

“He did, or at least part of it? But word got around of an ex-shock trooper helping a Mandalorian mow down a measly _four_ storm troopers, and people got curious,” she states as she begins to walk down the street towards the cantina. Mando and the hover carrier beside her.

Mando scoffs at the memory, “ _Four_ storm troopers,” he knows she’ll never let Greef live it down, even now, 4 months after the fact.

\----

After a brief meeting with Greef, the trio retired to Cara’s apartment down the way. As soon as they stepped into the apartment, they were greeted with a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen, Cara mentions off-handedly, “Ah, home, sweet home.”

The Child squirmed out of Cara’s hold and quickly waddled toward the source of the smell with barely contained excitement. Just as his outstretched arms were about to make contact with the hot oven window, Mando snatched the baby and lifted him up to eye level, “Hey, that was rude. We’re guests here, show some thanks to our friend before you go running off and eating everything in sight.”

The toddler’s ears drooped slightly in response, an indignant chirp sounding from the green baby’s lips.

Cara laughs as she joins them in the kitchen, “It’s ok Din, he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just hungry, as usual. I did cook this for you two, after all.” She nudges the pair aside as she turns off the oven, grabs a few towels to carefully remove the steaming dish, and sets it on the counter.

Din steps back, holding the Child in one arm, and leans against the opposite counter as Cara retrieves the dishware.

She’s been calling him by his first name for months now, respecting his privacy and only doing so in the solitude of her home when they visit, away from curious ears. In public she calls him “Mando,” like everyone else, and for that she has his gratitude.

He and the Child don’t visit often, but the few times they’ve been back, Cara is undoubtedly who they look forward to seeing the most. Hearing her speak his real name so casually when they’re alone makes his heart skip a beat, brings a small smile to his face under the helmet, and he briefly wonders if he’ll have the courage to go through with his plan tomorrow.

Din’s brought back to reality with a shake of his head when he hears Cara call out to him.

She repeats his name for the third time when he finally reacts, “Din? You still with me over there, Mandad? The kid and I can eat out here if you want to take this back to your room and settle in?” Cara has bowls on the counter, each filled with the deliciously smelling meat and vegetables.

“Sorry. Uh, yes. That would be good. If you don’t mind entertaining him for a little while?” Din walks out to the open living area and places the baby back into his carrier as Cara walks in with a tray carrying two steaming bowls and tall glasses, one filled with what appears to be milk for the little one and the other with water for herself.

“Not a problem. I’ve already put your food and drink in your room, and you’re welcome to seconds if you’d like, there’s plenty. You know where everything is,” giving him a small smile as she plops down onto the couch and begins to feed the Child, blowing on the spoon to cool it to a safe temperature.

Din watches the scene from the kitchen archway, and it takes a moment to gather his thoughts, “Thank you, Cara. I’ll probably take you up on that. We haven’t had a decent meal in a few days. Probably not since that last transmission I sent you,” he lets out a small laugh before continuing, “We’ve just arrived, but I feel better already. I can breathe a little easier with you. I know you’ll keep him safe.”

Confused at his comment, Cara turns to ask him what he meant, but the door to his room is already sliding shut.

\----

Morning arrives, and they’re gathered around Cara’s dining table. She and the baby’s empty breakfast plates sitting in front of them, Din having eaten in his room had already placed his dirty dishware in the sink.

Cara looks between Din and the kid, confusion and skepticism on her face, “Wait, wait…what? Explain that to me again. You two were at the market, and he used his magic hand to… steal fruit from some vendor? And that’s why you guys got chased off the planet… Kittens-3?”

Din softly drums his fingers once on the table, the glare through his helmet is palpable, he feels his jaw crack from the tension. She’s baiting him, he knows it. He can see the corners of her lips twitch with her barely suppressed shit eating grin.

He lets out a long-exasperated sigh, “Keethens-3, not kittens. The kid and I were at the market for supplies, food and the like. I had my back to him as I was handing over credits for the dried goods I’d just purchased. As soon as I turned around, I noticed pieces of fruit slowly float to his hands. The whole market saw, and the next thing I know, someone was shouting, vendors were ducking behind their stalls, people running away from us in all directions. All the commotion alerted security, so we had no choice but to drop everything and make a run for it. They fired a few shots at us, luckily nothing too bad.”

He paused, posture tense and voice serious as he said his next words, “One of the shots though… hit the carrier head on, a strong one, left a dent and nasty scorch mark on the hatch. I nearly lost my footing when I saw that the blaster bolt was strong enough to push the carrier off course and into a wall. After that we made it back to the _Crest_ and set course for Nevarro. I had forgotten the little one’s carrier was retrofitted when I checked him over. He seemed ok, a bit shaken, but not injured. I know I’ve said it before but… thank you, really. If the boy had been in the hover box instead of Kuill’s carrier you armored in duristeel, things would’ve ended a lot differently, I imagine.”

Din reached over, and gently stroked the boy’s forehead with his gloved hand. The boy cooed contently, happy for his father’s attention.

Cara considered her next words carefully, and started, “Din… I,” but she was cut off by his sudden interruption.

“All that fuss over a few pieces of fruit. They weren’t even ripe anymore, _ad’ika_ ,” a quiet, rueful laugh escapes Din’s his lips, “I really should teach you to be more selective of your food. You might make yourself sick.”

It wasn’t really about the fruit, that was painfully clear. Din and Cara both knew it.

From what she gathered during his frequent transmissions and occasional visits to Nevarro, the toddler was beginning to use his mysterious powers more and more. If he was using them more frequently, it can be assumed they’re getting stronger as well. So far, he hasn’t done anything as taxing or grand since saving them from the flametrooper all those months ago. But if what she’s seen and heard from Din is only just a fraction of what he can do, then Din’s exhausted and wary disposition were understandable.

They sit in silence for a few minutes until the toddler begins squirming in his carrier. Din immediate picks up the fussing baby, sets him on the floor and hands him the stuffed blue and green frog before the baby waddles off to wander Cara’s apartment.

Returning to his seat, Din watches the Child sit on floor, chewing on the stuffed frog, tiny body gently swaying side to side in time with what must be some melody only he can hear.

Still watching the toddler, Din begins, “This is partly why we came back, besides to refuel and supply. There’s something I need to ask you, Cara,” he sighs, and fully turns in his seat to face her.

He pauses, as if gathering his thoughts, then finally, “Do you…? I…” he trails off, losing his composure and slightly frustrated, before taking a deep breath and beginning again.

“Cara, will you join us? Things are getting more complicated than I’d like. I’ve no clue as to the boy’s species, their whereabouts, or even these sorcerers the Armorer spoke of. The Imperials are still out there. They’ve been quiet lately, but it’s only a matter of time before they start looking for him again. And not to mention the regular bounty hunters, too. There are so many forces working against him. I need help. I need someone to watch my back, watch the kid’s back. The Mandalorian covert is scattered and unreachable,” he takes another deep breath, “You’re the only person I trust enough to ask.”

Cara’s face is unreadable besides the scowl adorning her features. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it. Just as he’s about to say something, she finally chimes in, her face and eyes lifting with her familiar grin.

“Din Djarin, are you asking me to move in with you?” she leans back in her chair, crosses her arms, amusement evident on her face, as if he didn’t just explain his dire situation.

Her wide grin puts him at ease, and he lets out a breath, tension leaving his shoulders. Her change in demeanor suddenly making sense. She’s defusing the situation with humor, a characteristic he’s finding to be somewhat endearing.

He leans back in his chair as well, placing his arms on top of the table, and chuckles, “Yeah, I guess I am, Dune. You don’t have to give me an answer right away, I know it’s a lot to ask. You’ve been pretty good here for the last few months, and the… stability… certainly seems more appealing than planet hopping every few days for weeks on end.”

She lets out a bark of a laugh, “Are you trying to convince me to go with you or not? You really have to work on that, you know,” grin still on her face, and he can’t help but admire the beauty of it.

She makes a show of weighing her options - her face scrunching, nose crinkling, brow furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line, head cocking side to side.

Again, Din is grateful for the helmet, otherwise Cara would’ve seen him roll his eyes and the small smile adoring his face. He’s confident that she would agree, but he still needs to hear her say it herself, so there would be no doubt about what this entailed. He wanted her to fully understand what could happen out there in space if she joins him and little one for the long haul.

When she speaks, it’s full of the confidence and attitude he’s come to appreciate about her, “You know, things were good here, but to be honest, it’s been getting a bit boring. Bounty hunters nowadays aren’t as much fun as they used to be. There’s only so many bar brawls you can get yourself into before you start to miss the occasional blaster fight,” she sighs, “Din Djarin, you drive a hard bargain.”

She nods her head, lips quirked, “You son of a bitch, I’m in.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two, both letting everything sink in – recent events still playing on their minds, their current situation.

He’s caught off guard when she leans forward across the table, takes one of his hands in hers and squeezes before she whispers to him, “And it goes unsaid, but I’ll say it anyway… I trust you, too.”

Stunned, it takes him a moment to react to her last comment. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to express his gratitude. All he feels right now are her strong, soft, piercing eyes, the warmth of the small smile he wants to believe she saves only for him, her fingers curled around his own, and the growing sensation in his chest that he can’t place, can’t name, but knows can take his breath away in an instant.

Din glances down to their curled fingers, then to her face once more. The only acknowledgement he can give of her words are the tightening of his fingers in hers, and a small nod of his helmet, nearly imperceptible to anyone else, but Cara sees it as clear as day.


	2. Stir the Pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baby squirms and whines in his father’s lap, ears tilted upwards in annoyance, clearly not happy being told “No,” and Din, nearing his wit’s end, hits his helmet back against the headrest of the pilot’s seat with a soft thud, a deep scowl and glare fixed up at the unhelpful stars in the viewport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to wake up for work in an hour, but here I am posting this instead. Worth it.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)

They stay on Nevarro for three more days. It’s longer than Din and the Child have stayed previously, but with the promise of Cara joining them, neither can find a reason to complain.

The extra time was put to good use. Cara needed time to set her affairs in order with Greef as his enforcer and ask him to look after her apartment. She decided to take anything of personal value with her aboard the _Razor Crest_ and leave the rest behind. They were going to be in close quarters after all, the less luggage the better.

“I think it’d be a good idea to keep the apartment. Greef will look after it. Besides, if we need a place to lay low for a while or need to come back for business, we’d have a place to stay,” Cara explained as she packed her clothes and toiletries into the open bag on her bed.

Din was leaning against the wall opposite the bed, hands and ankles crossed as he watched her pack, “Makes sense.”

He’d only been in her room once before during their visits. Every time he and the Child would come by, she had graciously allowed them to use her spare bedroom, ensuring everyone had their privacy and comfort.

He glanced around her room, taking in the space. The walls were a cream color, as was the rest of the apartment, and she didn’t have any pictures or artwork up on her walls, or anywhere really. Considering she was on the run before settling here, he wasn’t surprised. Nothing around her apartment seemed to give any indication of where she was from, or what she considered important. Even now, as she packed, most of her belongings were able to fit into a few bags, her spare armor and weaponry in the metal case sitting in her living room, already packed and ready to go.

Din pushes off from the wall and heads to the living area, the baby is still asleep in his carrier and clutching his stuffed frog, down for his late morning nap.

It took some time, but Din was able to repair most of the damage to the carrier during their extended stay. He managed to fix the dent in the hatch, and after some tinkering, ensured its structural integrity and wiring were in a good enough condition. The black scorch mark couldn’t be removed completely, but the aesthetics paled in comparison to functionality. His handiwork was nothing compared to Kuill’s expert skills, but it would have to do.

He thinks of them often, of the Ugnaught and the covert, of those that have died in order to keep his _ad’ika_ safe, to keep him alive. He even thinks of IG-11. Of all the lives lost for the sake of one child. _His child_.

The memories still fresh in mind, always lingering in peripherals, waiting to take center stage when he lets his guard down.

Finding Kuill’s body at the foot of the loading ramp, so close to safety, but marred with the burns of blaster shots to his back. The droid he once considered his enemy, walking through a river of lava before self-destructing in order to give them a chance at survival. Returning to the shattered remnants of the covert, the realization that he was responsible for their demise, for the pile of helmets and armor once belonging to fearsome warriors who are now just voices of the past. Their sacrifices a heavy weight on his already straining conscience.

Yet, here he is, asking Cara for help once more, someone he cares for deeply, someone he is afraid to lose and add to the long list of names he must shoulder alone.

\----

Cara’s transition to life on the _Razor Crest_ was a relatively smooth one. She had her own bunk and space for her modest number of belongings, her armory placed in the corner against the outside wall of her bunk. Din had been accommodating, letting her get a feel for the space and arranging her things how she liked. After a few days aboard Cara had felt like she finally settled in.

“This is as much your home now as it is for me and the kid. I don’t want you to feel like you have to tip toe around here. Besides he doesn’t take up much space, other than his toys anyways, and he sleeps in his carrier most of the time,” Din explained as he rotated his right shoulder, satisfied after he feels a slight _pop._

He glanced back at his locked bunk, double checking that the baby was indeed still asleep for his post-lunch nap. They didn’t want to risk him seeing what they were about to do.

Din turned to face Cara, she was finishing her warmup, light on the balls of her feet as she threw quick punches in the air.

He vividly remembers their fight on Sorgan, where she literally got the drop on him and he was scrambling to hold his ground against her. She had hit hard and fast, the force of her punches left bruises for days even under the protective layer of beskar. The right hook she slammed into his head was the worst. The disorientation and ringing in his ears from both her punch and his head bouncing off the ground had left him nauseous for the remainder of that day. But despite that, they had managed to end in a draw, panting on the ground with blasters drawn.

If the Child and his soup hadn’t interrupted, there was a good chance only one of them would have walked back into that cantina with their head intact.

But this was just friendly competition, a way to keep their skills sharp during quiet times, well, as friendly an ex-shock trooper and fully armored Mandalorian could be. The rules were simple: full contact, no weapons, no holding back, and whatever you do, do not wake the baby.

“You ready, Mando?” Cara asks him, she’s radiating energy and excitement, her eyes shining, mouth wide with her trademark grin, the kind that makes his stomach knot, and Din doesn’t think he’s seen her more _alive_.

His voice deep and rough, “Do your worst, Dune,” he adjusts his position, left foot in front, hips at an angle, right foot behind him, shoulders relaxed, and fists raised.

He’s focused entirely on Cara, her stance a near mirror image of his own, but her left arm held in a vertical position, elbow down and fist raised, her right arm held tight against her side and cocked back, fist and forearm parallel to the floor.

She reminds him of the rattlesnakes on the shaded plateaus of the Tatooine desert, tense, tightly but perfectly coiled, ready to attack the instant they sense danger.

But rattlesnakes don’t have the sheer brute force and power that Cara Dune has, not by a long shot.

The air is tense between the two as they gauge one another.

Din is the first to move, quickly darting forward with a jab aimed for Cara’s head, but she weaves her head to her left, his fist grazing her hair. She launches her right fist, using his proximity for a clean upper cut to the stomach. She connects with the unarmored portion of his belly, and she twists her fist as she pushes up.

He feels her dig into his stomach with the follow through of her punch, and it forces the air from his lungs. Without a moment to spare, he slides back towards his rear foot, just in time to see her left fist fly through the space his head was previously occupying. Had that hit, he’d be a goner for sure.

Pivoting on his left foot, Din is able to land a solid kick to her stomach, effectively pushing her back and making her stumble. Cara’s back hits the wall with a loud thud, breath knocked out of her. As soon as she pulls her head up, Din’s right fist is on a straight path for her face, so she jumps to her right, his fist slamming into the wall with a loud clank and pained groan.

Using his momentary distraction, she rushes forward, grabs the collar of his cape with both hands, hooks her leg behind his, and pulls, landing him on his back with another groan with Cara on top still gripping his collar. Din manages to grab her left wrist and rolls toward her, breaking her hold and getting her on her stomach, he uses his body weight to gain leverage and twist her arm behind her back into submission.

Cara pushes off the floor with her right arm with a yell, the sudden movement throwing him off balance, and nearly ripping her arm out of its socket as he tumbles. They stand quickly, shuffling backwards to put some space between them and try to catch their breath.

They’re both bruised and a little bloody, but neither care, the adrenaline pumping through their veins numbing most of the pain. There’s an unspoken camaraderie, even now, as they’re facing each other in the heat of battle. Din can see it in her face, in her pained smirk and the twinkle in her eyes as she stares him down, the pride and respect she has for him as a fellow combatant, an _equal_. Even though his face is covered, Cara _knows_ that the Mandalorian feels the same.

Din is the first to move again, rushing toward her at an angle, tackling her at the stomach, arms wrapped around her waist to throw her backwards over his head and onto her back. But just as he’s shifting his weight for the throw, Cara grips him by the collar and spins to the side, throwing him off balance once more and slamming him onto his back again with a crash, the sound of metal against metal echoing through the ship, the impact leaving him slightly disoriented.

She quickly straddles him, pinning his left arm above his head with her right, her knees on either side of his hips, lower legs pressing down on his thighs, immobilizing them. His free hand reaches for the back of her knee, gripping it tightly. Just as he’s about to pull, he freezes when he feels the pressure of her left vambrace against his throat.

Cara smirks down at him triumphantly, panting, “I got you, Mando,” breath heavy from the exertion.

Din replies with a pained laugh, voice gruff, “How about best of three? We can finally settle that bet.”

She huffs her agreement, “You’re on, bring it.”

The next thing Din sees, Cara’s hair is framing his helmeted face as she leans down and playfully knocks her forehead against his, letting them rest against each other for a split second before she pulls away laughing.

“Show me what’cha got!” She exclaims as she begins to lift her weight off him to stand.

Din’s eyes are wide beneath his helmet, his breath caught in his lungs, lips parted and jaw trembling. He’s staring at her as she stands over him, her chest heaving, trying to catch her breath from their match, none the wiser.

She couldn’t possibly know what she just did, couldn’t understand what that simple action meant to his people, what it means to _him_.

He gathers himself with a shake of his head, and Cara calls out to him, “Din, you ok? Do you need a minute?”

He lets out a long breath, pushing the thoughts aside as he stands with a grunt, “No, no… I’m good. You just winded me for a second there. I’m ready. Do your worst, Dune. And be ready to pay up.”

They take a few steps back from each other to assume their fighting stances once more, fists raised, and shoulders relaxed. Staring intently at one another, one step at a time, they slowly circle, waiting to see who will make the first move.

\----

“No, stop it _ad’ika_ ,” Din repeats, scolding the Child sitting in his lap from chewing on his gloved fingers again.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my gloves are dirty, you cannot eat them. What’s wrong with your actual toys? I’ve already bought you so many,” He groans in exasperation, various stuffed animals and toys scattered on the floor of the cockpit.

It’s been occurring more frequently, the toddler behaving like a regular toddler.

The baby squirms and whines in his father’s lap, ears tilted upwards in annoyance, clearly not happy being told “No,” and Din, nearing his wit’s end, hits his helmet back against the headrest of the pilot’s seat with a soft _thud_ , a deep scowl and glare fixed up at the unhelpful stars in the viewport.

Suddenly, an idea occurs, and Din is looking down at the fussing toddler. There wasn’t much opportunity to practice, but it was worth a shot.

“ _Ad’ika, vaabir gar copad at susulur a gehat'ik?_ ”

“Ehh?” The Child immediately quiets and looks up at his father, eyes scrunching in curiosity and ears perked in attention.

\----

It’s late into the ship’s night cycle when Cara sees the Mandalorian descend the ladder from the cockpit, baby asleep and nestled safely in one arm.

She’s lounging in the common area, absent of armor, dressed in casual clothes, feet clad in the dark leather boots she rarely gets to use, soft and warm form fitting pants, dark sleeveless shirt, and what seems to be a dark compression sleeve on her right forearm.

Din finds her sitting atop one crate, feet propped up on another, leaning back against the wall, her left arm resting on a table with a glass of spotchka in hand. He’s seen her in similar attire on Nevarro, and he takes it as a sign that Cara is comfortable enough to be without her armor on the _Razor Crest_.

The book sitting in her lap though, that was something new.

The Mandalorian carefully sets the sleeping toddler in his carrier and closes the hatch, confident he will stay asleep for the remainder of the flight through hyperspace.

Din quietly takes a seat on the opposite side of the table and leans back against the wall, amusement in his voice, “I didn’t know you read.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, dare I ask?” She raises an eyebrow at him in accusation. But the smile is evident in her voice, she knows he meant no disrespect.

He lets out a small puff of air that might be considered a laugh, “Nothing, no offense intended. I just meant I didn’t know you read recreationally. Especially from a book instead of a datapad. Those things are pretty rare nowadays.”

“I don’t, not really. This is just more out of habit than anything else. I’ve read this cover to cover more times than I can count over the years,” she takes a small sip of her drink before setting the glass on the table.

“What kind of book is it?” Din asks.

She lifts the book off her lap, high enough for him to see the cover, and he reads the title aloud, “ _Principles of Human Anatomy and Physiology_?” Head tilting to the side in question.

She takes another drink of her spotchka, “Not what you were expecting, huh? It’s an older version, I’m sure you can find more up to date ones pretty easily, but this one is special. At least to me. It’s from before I joined the Alliance and trained to be a shock trooper,” she turns away from him and looks to the far wall.

Din is quiet as he listens, in the months he’s known Cara, she’s never mentioned anything of her life before becoming a soldier. Not even on Nevarro, within the solitude of her apartment when he and the Child would visit, not one utterance.

The faraway look he sees on her face, he can only guess is contemplation, or maybe hesitation.

She opens her mouth slightly as if to speak but closes again as her lips press into a hard-thin line. Her top lip twitches as she bites the left corner of her bottom lip, hard enough that Din can see a slight discoloration from the intensity.

After a moment, she releases her lip, turns her head slightly in his direction, not looking at him, but instead focusing on a random spot on the floor. Lifting her left hand, she slowly traces the rim of her glass with her middle finger.

Her voice is quiet, just barely above a whisper, “I was studying medicine before joining the Alliance. I was supposed to be a doctor,” she peeks at him from the corner of her eyes, giving a small but sad smile, “But then the fucking Empire…,” she trails off, voice wavering with emotion.

Cara lifts her glass and finishes her drink in one last gulp, a heavy exhale. She’s looking down at her lap, thumb lightly stroking the cover of the book, “This… this book is one of the only things I have left of Alderaan. One of the only things I have left of a home I’ll never see again.”

Din’s eyes soften under his helmet at her confession. She still hasn’t taken her eyes off her book. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, faces forward, and hangs his head low as he gives her an unseen nod before uttering quietly, “I’m sorry.”

\----

Din is explaining to Cara, pointing to the screen on the control panel, “So, the plan is to land here, just on the outskirts of the village,” the image of a planet and a small highlighted section blinks up at them, “From the looks of it, this part of the planet doesn’t have much in terms of population, but the scanner indicates some bigger structures. Buildings, maybe. Too big for a normal farming village, so it might be the place we’re looking for.”

She nods and turns to look down at him briefly then back to the screen, she’s standing to his left as he sits in the pilot’s chair, her right arm holding the back of his headrest as she leans forward, other arm braced against the control panel to get a better view.

“It looks like a few farms are scattered around our landing zone, so we shouldn’t cause too much of a commotion. It’d be easier if we landed closer to this mystery building, but it’s better to do some groundwork first, talk to the locals and ask some questions,” Cara looks to Din, “Agreed?”

“Agreed. Alright, sit back, we’re approaching the planet’s atmosphere,” Din warns as he takes control of the ship.

During the few months she was on Nevarro, she and Greef were able to find salvage some old reports from the burnt remains of the Imperial hideout. During the clean up after Moff Gideon, the former magistrate had found a datapad of The Client’s containing an encrypted message and report concerning rumors of a person with special abilities near an old Rebel base. Although not much of a lead, it was the only piece of information they had after months of searching.

After breaking through the atmosphere with ease, Din flies towards the highlighted location on his control panel, the early morning sunlight peeking through the clouds.

He engages the landing gear, and the _Razor Crest_ lands in the grassy rolling plains of Dantooine.

Climbing down the ladder, Din places the toddler in his carrier, then they prepare to disembark, silently arming themselves. Din’s rifle slung over his shoulder; Cara’s extra blaster holstered onto her left thigh for added measure.

Neither spoke of what occurred the previous night. Din wanted to inquire further, but he knew better. A person’s past was their own, and he had no right to pry, not of Cara, or of anyone for that matter. Despite the sensitive subject, he was relieved that she was able to tell him.

Nodding to each other, Din presses the button to lower the loading ramp. As they walk down, they’re immediately greeted by the sight of tall brown and green grass covering plains that stretch as far as the eye can see. In the distance they can see a small farm on the left, and even further, small clusters of buildings peppering the horizon.

With a press of a button on his vambrace, Din closes the ramp to the ship, and the trio begins forward.

\----

As they near the small farm, a strong breeze rushes past, carrying leaves and dust.

The Child sneezes with a soft, but adorable, “Achoo!” catching Din and Cara’s attention. The toddler sniffles and lets out a sad “coo” at the irritation.

Laughing quietly, Din bends down, balancing on the balls of his feet so he is at eye level with his son who is floating in the carrier. He picks up the edge of his cape and tenderly wipes his little one’s nose.

Task completed, he drops his cape, then lifts one hand to softly stroke the baby’s forehead, “How about now, feel better?”

The Mandalorian receives a happy gurgle and yip in response, he takes that as a yes.

Standing back to full height, Din begins forward again, but realizes after a few paces that Cara isn’t beside him. He quickly turns in search of her, and she’s standing a little way back, staring at the farm. It takes him seconds to reach her.

She has that faraway look in her eyes again.

Hesitantly, he asks, “Cara? Are you ok?” His concern evident in his voice, cape softly flapping behind him in the wind.

Cara turns to him for a moment, then back to the farm, that look of melancholy painted on her face, and he doesn’t know what to do.

But it turns out he doesn’t have to do anything, not really. Just wait and listen.

With a lick to her wind chapped lips, she begins, “Back home… Back on Alderaan, we had a small farm, similar to this one, my family, I mean. We had the main house, a barn, windmill, and small field for the animals, but our farm was located on a sea cliff. I’d lived there my whole life, well, up until… you know,” she shrugs, “It was my responsibility to feed the animals dinner, so everyday around sunset, I’d finish my chores for the day,” she pauses, and Din is drawn to her eyes, sees the buildup of moisture in the corners, and he can’t help but notice how much more reflective they’ve become in the sunlight.

“Every day after I finished my chores, I would sit on the edge of the cliff and feel the ocean breeze, listen to the waves crashing against the rocks down below. I’d let my legs dangle off the edge, swing them back and forth, as I watched the sky change color from orange to blue to black, the stars little white dots in the night. Even with only the moonlight, I could still see the trees outlined on top the opposite cliff. It was my favorite spot, if anyone ever needed to look for me, they could always find me there,” her voice is rough with emotion, and she has to take a deep breath before continuing.

“I was accepted into a school for medicine off world, and as a going away gift, my mom, she was an artist in her spare time,” she explains, “Mom made me a necklace, a necklace of that spot on the cliff, of the sky, the waves, even the little trees in the distance. As she handed it to me, she told me that if I ever felt alone or sad, to look at this necklace. Look at it and remember that there are people and a place here waiting for you, no matter what. That you can always come home.”

Cara finally turns to him fully. Her eyes are shining brighter than before, the tears threatening to fall, but she holds strong. She’s taking slow, deep, measured breaths, trying not to let her feelings overwhelm her.

Din takes a step closer, close enough that she has to look up at him.

This time, he takes her hand in his, and squeezes tightly, his own voice hoarse with emotion, “I never had the opportunity to visit Alderaan, but it sounds beautiful. I wish I could have seen it.”

The soft breeze caresses her face with his unspoken words. _With you. I wish I could have seen it, with you._

Cara’s hand squeezes his even tighter, so much that it trembles as the images flash through her mind.

_A child is laughing as he waddles across the field, chasing an insect as it evades his outstretched his hands. The sky is a beautiful mixture of orange and white and blue as the sun sets in the distant horizon, setting the clouds ablaze. Waves crash against the rocks below, each time rising higher and higher with the tide. The taste of salt in the air carries from the ocean breeze._

_At the top of a flat rocky formation, a woman lies on her back in the grass, hands pillowed beneath her head, legs dangling off the edge of the cliff as she looks to the sky up above. Sitting beside her is a man adorned in heavy silver armor, one leg dangling, the other leg bent, foot flat on the ground as he rests an arm on his knee, his cape flowing behind him in the wind. The light of the setting sun casting a soft orange glow on his helmet._

_The man looks down at the woman lying in the grass, she turns her head, looks up at him, eyes focusing at the point where the two lines of the helmet cross. She smiles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...lots of stuff happening in this chapter, but also...not.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you've enjoyed! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)


	3. Heightened Awareness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din snorts quietly, “His age… If he were around people his actual age, the three of us would be sitting in a cantina right now with spotchka in our hands. But to answer your question, no. During a few stops on the more… accommodating… planets he was able to spend time with other children. Not much, but some. For that, I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for the second half of the chapter. Mentions of violence and not so nice things.
> 
> Also, forgive me for any grammar mistakes, I'm trying haha
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Their hands are still intertwined when the breeze finally slows. The leaves and dust swirling in the air begin to settle as the Mandalorian and ex-shock trooper slowly loosen their hold on one another, hands beginning to withdraw back to their respective owner.

But at the last moment, Din’s fingers stop, the two still connected by the slightest touch of their fingertips.

His voice no more than a whisper, “Will you be alright?”

Cara lowers her head, eyes flickering to the ground, she licks her lips, then looks up to her companion once more. Giving him a small but sad smile, “Yeah, I will. Thanks,” she reassures him with a slight nod and takes her hand back.

Din then raises his hand, the same that was gripping hers only moments ago, and slowly pushes errant strands of hair from Cara’s face, the back of his gloved fingertips lightly trailing from her forehead to her cheek. His touch just a whisper on her skin but sends shockwaves down her spine.

She gapes at him, eyes wide, lump in her throat from his bold gesture.

The Mandalorian slowly bows his head in acknowledgement, takes one step back before turning slightly, body angling toward the direction of the village in the distance. He shifts his head back to her, voice small and hesitant, “I’ll let you take the lead this time. If you want.”

The weight of his words hang in the air between them.

She understands.

\----

With the Child’s carrier trailing behind them, Cara and Din travel toward the village side by side, close enough that they brush against each other with every other step. There’s an air of change, an understanding, the potential for _something_ _more_ if they want.

For months now, they’ve skillfully skirted around what has been building between them, around them. Both comfortable with the current state of their companionship, a friend, an equal, a confidant, a touchstone.

Din thinks of all the tiny events that brought him to this point - the smiles and laughter, caring for the little one, the feelings of peace and content being in her presence, and those rare moments of vulnerability, where they were left clinging to one another, a reminder that in this giant cold galaxy, they didn’t have to be so alone anymore.

He doesn’t want to push her into something she doesn’t want, they’ve always been respectful of each other’s boundaries, and this is no different. But it’s becoming more difficult with each passing day, suppressing his desire to be close to her, to be able to hold her freely and be held in return. The freedom to just _be._

But they came to Dantooine for a reason, and that reason is becoming restless in his carrier behind them, excited to be out of the ship and amongst people again.

It’s only mid-morning when they arrive in the quaint but bustling village. It must be the warmer season of the planet’s cycle because the sun, heat, and humidity are barreling down uncomfortably on the trio.

Cara can feel the sweat beginning to accumulate at her hairline and the stickiness in the air clinging to her exposed skin. The Child, for all his excitement, is predictably drawn to the aroma of food in the air and the other children out and about, completely unfazed by the heat of the sun.

For Din however, the weather is not his top concern at the moment.

He’s used to the stares he receives upon arriving at a new location, of the wary glances and hurried shuffles resulting from his presence. Being a Mandalorian always drew attention, unwanted or otherwise.

The market they’re surveying is filled with what seems to be locals and off-worlders, if the blasters and rifles are any indication, most keeping to themselves, some passing glances at the newcomers.

What catches his attention are the expressions of paralyzed fear and agony when some take so much as a passing glance at him.

He doesn’t observe them directly, keeping his helmet facing forward, he shifts his eyes as the trio slowly make their way down the street. Only a handful of villagers react this strongly, and those immediately flee. Din peeks over to Cara, head tilting, she nods with the smallest movement in confirmation.

Cara then turns to retrieve the baby from the carrier, holding him tightly to her left side. Din pushes a button to close the carrier once the toddler is in Cara’s hold, and immediately stands behind the two, keeping close. They’ve learned from past experience, that when in a market with a crowd, it was best to keep the toddler close by, especially with his tendency to reach out with his magic hand. And considering some of the villagers’ reaction to Din’s presence, being with Cara might be the safest place for the baby for the time being.

They move along the market, stopping at various stalls, purchasing snacks for Cara and the Child, Din politely refusing and passing his share onto his partner and ward. Some of the warier vendors softening their gazes when they see the three, the loving attention the two adults give to their odd green child.

It was a strategy they had discussed; citizens of a farming village would be more receptive to a family unit as opposed to two hunters toting a strange alien creature. It wasn’t too far from the truth, Din’s feelings for his son were obvious, and his feelings for Cara ran deep.

If they were to find any information regarding the rumors of the Rebel base and this person with special abilities, this might be the best way to go about acquiring it.

\----

Din is leaning against a wall, a slight reprieve from the scorching sun while taking shelter in the shade, hands and ankles crossed in his usual manner. Cara is sitting contently in front of him, reclining with arms spread out along the back of the bench, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. Both in a comfortable silence while they watch the toddler play with the some of the local children, a game of chase on a shaded patch of grass, other families and parents also enjoying the break from the heat.

“It’s good that he can still get along with other kids. Sometimes I worry we’re isolated for so long that he’ll have problems.”

Cara nods before turning back to look at the Mandalorian, “This is the first time he’s played with anyone his age since Sorgan?” Eyebrow raised in question.

Din snorts quietly, “His age… If he were around people his actual age, the three of us would be sitting in a cantina right now with spotchka in our hands. But to answer your question, no. During a few stops on the more… accommodating… planets he was able to spend time with other children. Not much, but some. For that, I’m glad.”

“You buy him a lot of toys, though. That’s pretty obvious,” she mentions as she smirks back at the armored man.

He huffs in agreement, “It’s all I can do, really. I know it’s not a good substitute… for, well… this,” he says as he waves his hand in the direction of the children, “But I’m trying. Besides, I’m not the only one buying him toys. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” his tone playful in his accusation as he crosses his arms at pointedly glares at her.

Cara grins broadly at him, can practically feel the smile on his face along with a brow raised in false indignation.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “Can’t help it, have you seen him? How can I say no to that? With a face that adorable, he must get it from his daddy,” teasing him with a wink and sly quirk of her lips.

Din laughs wholeheartedly, affection and adoration for her and the Child apparent in the way his head rests back against the wall supporting him, the way his body shakes with each breath, “Exactly, ears and all. Hopefully, he grows into them.”

Voice lowering, Din continues, “You know, when I was kid, before the Mandalorians…” he trails off momentarily, “During the warmer season, similar to this one, my parents would leave me and my brother and sister to play with the other kids while they were at the market. When they’d come to collect us, they had a cold fruit drink ready for us, to help cool us off from sun. We didn’t have much money, so the three of us would share as we walked back home, passing it back and forth until it was empty.”

Cara’s face immediately softened as he began reminiscing, and she was glad he shared a happy memory of his childhood. Like her, memories of a former life were difficult to remember fondly after so much tragedy, much less talk about openly. This was the first she’s heard him speak of his life before the Mandalorians. If she and Din were anything alike, sometimes it was easier to leave the past buried.

“That sounds nice. It seems like you were a happy kid.”

It takes him a moment to answer, “Yeah, I was.”

She turns from him and is quiet, nods to herself, then stands from the bench, turning to Din, “Watch the kid for a few minutes, ok? I’ll be back soon,” then heads back to the market, leaving a confused Mandalorian in her wake.

\----

When Cara returns, the toddler is being cradled in his father’s steady arms, clearly tired but satisfied having played with other children again. She notices some of the other kids have returned to their parents as well.

Even though they’re still standing under the shade, protected from the sun, the rising heat of the impending afternoon is apparent.

Din turns to Cara, confusion evident in his modulated voice, “What are those?” His head gesturing towards the three cups with straws secured in her hands.

Raising both hands slightly, “Just thought some cold fruit juice would be a nice treat. Especially for you two, I’m sure the kid is thirsty after running around with his friends. And you’re probably cooking under all that beskar in this heat. I’m sure we can find some secluded place for you to have your drink in peace.”

Again, Cara manages to knock Din sideways. It’s a simple gesture, but not without meaning. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to her kindness; wasn’t expecting her bring one of his childhood memories back to life, but still manage to honor who he is now, respecting him and his creed.

All he can offer is a quiet, “Thank you.”

She nods her acknowledgement, face brightening into a smile, _his smile_ , and he can’t help but take in her features, her beauty even under a light sheen of sweat, the warmth of her dark eyes, the way her hair falls along her face, the dimples on either side of her mouth, the curves of her lips when she looks at him _just like that_.

He wonders if she knows how mesmerized he is by her, how it was both more difficult to breath around her, yet so easy at the same time.

Din is suddenly pulled from his reverie by the child in his arms.

The baby eagerly reaches for one of the cups in Cara’s hands with excited “coos,” an irresistible grin on his green face, and they can’t help but chuckle.

Cara carefully hands the toddler a cup, putting the straw to his mouth, “Here you go, little man. Drink up.”

The Child clutches with both hands, tiny claws wrapped possessively around the wooden cup, and tentatively drinks from the straw. After the first sip, his ears perk up happily, drinking the cold beverage so fast the cup empties with a loud _slurp_ that leaves the toddler giggling at the funny noise.

Cara is next to put her straw to her lips, making faces at the baby as she bites the end to bring about more laughter. She drinks through to the straw so fast that the resounding _slurp_ makes the Child giggle louder, but also draws a confused look from a passerby, and Cara has the decency to look just a tad bit embarrassed.

The Mandalorian smiles to himself as he watches his son reach for the last remaining cup, “It’s ok, he can have mine. I’ll find something later.”

Cara chuckles as she chews on one end of her straw, now twirling it with her lips. She replaces the empty cup in the baby’s hands for Din’s full one, “Alright, if you say so. The kid’s just having a blast today, isn’t he,” She tosses the empty cups into the bin behind the pair.

But instead of hastily consuming the fruit juice as expected, with a toothy grin adorning his face, the Child lifts the cup towards his father’s helmet, straw poking into the bottom “T” of the visor approximately where Din’s chin would be.

Completely taken by surprise, the father is frozen, wide eyed under the beskar, “Uh… no it’s ok, _ad’ika_. You can have it…” He swallows nervously as he leans his head back in a futile attempt to escape the straw, but his son is determined, if not slightly manipulative.

The kid must be learning from Cara.

Pointy green ears droop slightly as he murmurs a sad “coo,” and Din is taken aback, pleading to Cara, “Um, a little help here, please?”

She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement at his predicament, “Nope, sorry. Can’t help you there, Mandad. You try and say ‘No’ to that face. But the juice tastes pretty good, if it’s any consolation?” Shrugging at him with a twinkle in her eye, grin so wide it makes her face ache, waiting to see how, or rather if, he can finesse his way out of this one.

Another sad “coo,” comes from his arms, and Din is metaphorically backed even further into a corner.

A long moment of silence passes as he stares down the baby in his arms, and he thinks he might’ve imagined the croaking of insects in the distance.

With a slump of his shoulders and sigh of defeat, Din shifts the baby to one arm. He carefully holds the tip of the straw with the thumb and index finger of his free hand, tilting the cup and straw held tightly in green clawed hands as he arches his neck slightly, enough to maneuver the straw under the rim of his helmet and up to his lips.

He takes a tentative sip, letting the juice coat his tongue before swallowing silently to ease his parched throat.

She’s right, it is delicious. _Damn you, Dune._

Rather than prolong his agony, Din finishes the beverage with a long and sharp inhale, the action producing the loudest _slurp_ of the three, the sound reverberating through the straw and cup, making him cringe beneath the helmet.

The kid giggles at his father, elated at the funny noises coming from the silver man despite his earlier reluctance.

Din finally releases the straw and pointedly pushes the offending straw and cup back towards the toddler. A quick glance at his surroundings and he sees that not only Cara is quietly laughing at his expense, but a handful of the mothers nearby are unsuccessfully stifling their own giggles behind a hand politely covering their mouth.

He can feel his face warm under his helmet, and it wasn’t due to the sun hanging overhead.

In an effort to salvage what remains of his dignity, Din opens the carrier, places the giggling child inside, and hurriedly brushes past Cara towards the main street, “C’mon, let’s go. We have places to be.”

\----

The trio arrive at the small cantina in the early afternoon. A deafening silence and frowns from patrons greet them as they make their way to a booth close to the entrance. The jovial mood from earlier evaporated like a drop of water in a scorching desert.

The Mandalorian sits facing the rest of the cantina, Cara situated opposite of him, and the carrier floating at the edge of the table. Din rests his left arm on the table and leans back into the cushioned booth, in an image of relaxation. But in reality, he is assessing the other occupants with unseen eyes, determining who was a threat. His right hand hidden under the table, poised to draw his blaster at the tiniest movement.

Cara wipes the toddler’s mouth, cleaning it of invisible spittle, as her eyes find Din’s in silent question. With the almost imperceptible nod of his head, she relaxes slightly into the booth’s cushions, setting her hand previously at her blaster atop the table.

The bartender finally makes his way to their table, and the cantina is once again filled with light chatter.

Din couldn’t help but notice some of the older gentlemen sneak out the opposite end of the room, their credits sitting on the table, drinks and food abandoned in favor of a hasty exit.

The ex-shock trooper and Mandalorian look up to the bartender as he reaches the table. He’s an older man, portly with a balding head of salt and pepper hair, his face a tad paler than the other locals, but their eyes are immediately drawn to the red scarred patch of disfigured skin starting from his right cheek, extending down his neck and into the collar of his shirt.

Cara knows a burn victim when she sees one.

Having treated her fair share of them on the battlefield, and sporting a few herself under her armor, she knows that he must have been in agony for months for it to look that.

Datapad in hand, the bartender asks, “So what’ll ya have?” Looking between the two adults and a passing glance at the pointy eared creature.

“I’ll have a glass of whiskey and the house special stew. The little one will have some blue milk and a bowl of porridge, if you’ve got it,” Cara responds automatically, familiar with the routine of ordering food with her companions.

“And you, sir?” The bartender asks the armored man, eyebrow raised in question.

“Nothing for me right now, thanks. Just for those two.”

“Alright, suit yourself. I’ll get your order started,” He enters the order into the datapad and rounds back to the bar.

Cara lifts the baby from the carrier and sets him on her lap, letting him play with her fingers as she glances up at Din, bobbing her head as he returns the gesture. Her silver companion stands from the booth, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder as he moves to sit at the bar, choosing the seat closest to their host.

The balding man looks up from the steaming pots on the stove, “You wanna order something else there, friend?”

“No, but I have some questions,” Din states as he places a small amount of credits on the bar.

The host looks from the credits to the man sitting at the bar with a heavy frown, his automatic response would be to decline, but credits were credits, “Ask your questions. Carefully.”

Unfazed, the Mandalorian begins, “Who were those men that left as soon as we came in? And why did they leave?”

A soft click of the tongue and twitch of the cheek, “Locals, a few of the older farmers. Been here their whole lives, passed their farms down to their kids when they couldn’t do the work anymore. They come in here every once in a while, to get drunk and complain about how boring their lives are. Usual country folk. Why did they leave? Well, to be plain, they don’t like you, or your girl over there. The sight of you two are stirring up old memories we’d all like to keep forgotten.”

Din is silent, glancing back to the other occupants in the cantina, then to Cara and the kid, before facing the bartender again, “Why is that? We didn’t do anything. We only arrived this morning. A few people in the market, older folks too, didn’t seem very happy with us.”

“Like I said, old memories. Us older kooks got nothing left, but memories. And not all of them are good.”

“Me and my family, we’re just travelers. We’re looking for an old rebel base nearby. We don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Friend, you caused trouble the moment you walked into this village. Looking like that, people are bound to react. You’re just lucky a lot of the people you came across at the market are younger, don’t know of the hell we went through.”

His tone still casual, despite the implied remark about his helmet, “Looking like what, a Mandalorian? What happened to this place that makes you hate us?”

The man behind the counter steels his features, internally debating whether or not to open that old wound or tell this guy to rightfully _fuck off_.

Din can see the thoughts running through his head, so he places more credits on the bar, triple the amount of what he offered before.

That seemed to do the trick.

“Listen here, friend, and listen good. Because I’m not going to repeat myself. Got it?”

A nod, “Understood.”

“Almost 30 years ago now, right when the Empire took control and got rid of the Republic, we were hit hard. This little farming village was nearly bombed into the ground. That rebel base you’re looking for, it isn’t a rebel base. That was just some crock of shit the Rebellion and Alliance spewed as a distraction from their real bases. This thing you’re looking for, it’s an old Jedi enclave, or school, whatever you wanna call it.”

There was no mistaking the venom in the man’s voice.

Din couldn’t mask the hint of confusion in his voice, “Jedi? I’ve never heard of them.”

A sniff, and quick glance at the two still sitting in the booth, “I figured, nobody really talks about them anymore. Last I heard, the Empire wiped them all out years ago. That’s what they did, ships came down, dropping bombs on that school and our village. I was sitting right over there, where your girl and kid are when the bombs hit. I spilled whatever I was drinking all over my face and chest in the commotion, and next thing I know I’m on fire. I’m screaming for help, for somebody, for anybody, but what good did it do, everyone else in here was just as bad off as I was. Some a lot worse.

I somehow managed to make it outside, and those… those… sons of bitches with their fucking helmets and armor and blasters pointing at anything that moved. Kept telling us to ‘Hand over any Jedi or we’ll be killed.’ There were already bodies lying in the streets, holes in them from the blasters or burnt from the bombs.”

He pauses, eyes screwed shut trying to block out the memories, face grimacing in pain. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, “Eventually the helmets left the village. What exactly happened to the Jedi, we don’t know for sure, but we saw a big plume of smoke coming from the school, even from here. It took a few days for us to get our bearings. Some of the villagers went out there, to check for survivors. I wasn’t with them, was too busy with half my face melted off to do anything other than writhe in pain.

What they found was… was a massacre,” he swallows thickly before continuing, “They said the school was in shambles, parts of the building blown to bits, the ground upended from the explosions. But that wasn’t even the worst part, what they did to us here was nothing compared to the pure evils they committed at that school. The villagers said they found uh… they found a pile of bodies, all burnt up, smoke still coming off the charred flesh.”

Din’s mouth is agape beneath his helmet, can feel the pound in his chest with each heartbeat as he listens to this man relive the horrors the Empire has brought on this tiny unsuspecting village.

What he hears next, it makes him wish they hadn’t come to Dantooine at all.

“What they did to those people… There are no words to describe those monsters, with their white helmets and black visors, we couldn’t even see their faces. They murdered all those people, all those kids… they were just babies. Some of us had even sent our own kids there, hoping they’d have a better future. The Empire massacred a school of children, piled their bodies, and left them burning, to waste away like trash.”

It finally dawns on the Mandalorian, why some of the villagers are terrified of him. Why they take one look at his helmeted face and armored body and flee with horror in their eyes.

Din almost doesn’t want to ask his next question, but they’ve come this far, and he has to remind himself it’s for _his son_.

“These Jedi, did they have… special abilities?”

The bartender looks to the pair in the booth, then sharply to the man sitting before him, “If you’re looking for that school, and asking that question, then I know all I need to know. You have my deepest sympathies, son. Your boy… he’s got… he’s got a hard life ahead of him. If you’re set on heading out there, I can’t stop you. But what you find out there, whatever it is you dig up, you might just wish you left it buried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluffy fluff for our favorite people, but as always, the plot must go on!
> 
> I threw in some lines alluding to one of my favorite sci-fi couples of all time, kudos to anyone who can guess who. 😉
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


	4. Follow the Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Two? What kind of trouble do you think I’ll be getting into?” Din chuckles lightly as he places the medpacs into his bag.
> 
> “Please, if I know you, and I’d say I’ve got you down pretty well, you’re the one who’s gonna be attracting all the trouble,” she teases as she double checks her blasters and knives and other small devices in various pockets.
> 
> “I do my best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way longer than I planned. It was originally supposed to be one super duper long chapter, but that was exhausting so I had to split in half. 😵

Cara’s hair was blowing behind her in the wind as they sit on a speeder destined for the Jedi enclave. Din at the helm, focusing on the grassy plains and canyon walls, the kid held securely in her lap, his carrier powered down and placed in the backseat as they zoom past unsuspecting kath hounds and the occasional residence or farm.

She had used a special comm to listen to the entire conversation between Din and the bartender, and it left her unsettled.

While on Nevarro, she had managed to win an experimental hands-free comm, the users could simply wear them in their ear, and link it their vambrace or some other device. It was a subtle way to communicate during delicate situations, and she was glad that Wookie and its Trandoshan partner decided to bet them on an old-school game of Pazaak. She had barely won by the skin of her teeth, but a win was a win, and her prize had certainly come in handy.

The woman from Alderaan was no stranger to the lengths the Empire would go to prove their power, to dominate, and frankly neither was Din, far from it. They’re both people forged from the remnants of homes and lives destroyed by war and tragedy. Her heart aches with the truth that it’s not an uncommon story, that there isn’t a single person who hasn’t lost something or someone to one war or another.

Her grip on the Child in her lap tightens at the thought.

The seed of fear planted so long ago is once again creeping to the surface, feeding on her doubts and hesitation, and she doesn’t know what to make of it.

\----

Din is quiet in the seat next to Cara, both hands on the controls, eyes scanning ahead for any potential obstacles or dangers, but his mind is parsecs away.

They had left the cantina with more information than he had originally hoped. At some point in time, there were enough of the Jedi to warrant a school, an enclave, and who knows if this was the only one in the galaxy. He doesn’t know what to expect when they finally reach it, the bartender made it clear that there were no survivors from the bombardment nearly 30 years ago.

So why are there rumors of someone nearby with special abilities? It’s possible the village is trying to protect this person, or that somehow there was a survivor and they’ve been there all along, alone and isolated. Or maybe none of it was true to begin with. As much as he wants to grab Cara and the boy by the hand and leave this planet behind, he knows they have to at least see this through.

Din owes his little green one that much at least, he has to know that he’s worth the effort and sacrifice.

The armored man’s thoughts drift to his son, to the task given to him by the Armorer, and his own growing fears. He was tasked with finding the Child’s own kind, whether it be his own species, or maybe even these _Jedi_. If what the bartender spoke of was true, he’s not particularly optimistic about either option. Din can feel the growing conflict in his heart, and the further they investigate, the more he is divided. By Creed, he must do what is best for his son, but he cannot deny the affection and love for him either.

Logically, he knows what must be done, but the mere thought of it brings a heavy weight down on his chest, grips his heart, and squeezes, the idea of parting from his son, his _ad’ika…_

Din isn’t sure he has the strength to bear it.

The Mandalorian pushes his worries to the back of his mind with a thick swallow when he notices the silhouette of a structure growing taller and taller with each passing second as they speed closer, the details coming into focus.

They’ve arrived.

\----

Din takes the speeder as close as he can to the building, but the uneven mounds of dirt and jagged edges make it difficult. The enclave is surrounded by canyon walls on two sides and open fields and plains on the others. Even from the short distance, he can tell that at one point in time, it must have been quite the place. But now it’s in shambles, part of the roof is caved in, sections nothing but rubble, and the grounds are unkept with various vegetation growing along the walkways and up the sides the building.

The three exit the speeder and begin their preparations. Din powers on the carrier and slings his rifle over his left shoulder, a canvas bag of supplies over his right. Cara places the toddler in his carrier and tucks his stuffed toy and blanket with him, her own bag against her back, crossing from her left shoulder and across to her right hip.

The Mandalorian lifts his head and scans the skies, the sun is still overhead and according to the villagers, during the warmer months, the days were longer, so there was still plenty of time to investigate the enclave. But they have enough supplies to camp for a few days, if needed.

Cara is the first to speak, breaking the long silence that settled between the two since they departed the village over an hour ago, “Here, I want you to have this. Keep it on you, just in case we get separated,” her outstretched hand holding two medpacs.

“Two? What kind of trouble do you think I’ll be getting into?” Din chuckles lightly as he places the items into his bag.

“Please, if I know you, and I’d say I’ve got you down pretty well, you’re the one who’s gonna be attracting all the trouble,” she teases as she double checks her blasters and knives and other small devices in various pockets.

“I do my best. But what about you? Are you carrying any?” Concern lacing his modulated voice.

Her voice is casual as she surveys the area, “Yeah, I have two. I figured, if something happens and we get separated, at least one can be for our little man over there. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that but doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Din’s mind and lungs come to a grinding halt at her words, and she doesn’t even seem to notice the slip.

_Our. Our little man._

It’s been on his mind lately; the more Din thinks of _her_ , his train of thought leads to her relationship with his _ad’ika_. He knows she cares for the boy, knows that she’s been buying him toys behind his back, and happily minding the Child when Din needs his personal space. But to think of the strange green creature as her own, as theirs?

If Din wasn’t already head over heels for her, then he would be now.

“Hmm, good thinking. I still have the comm from earlier, too. But for the sake of my sanity, let’s try to all stick together,” he rounds and points a finger down to the baby in the carrier, “Especially you. We can’t have you wandering off, so stay close to us.”

An indignant chirp is all the response he receives from the boy. Figures.

Cara snorts, “Affirmative, Mandad. I’ll drive you insane some other time.”

The man in silver pointedly ignores her comment. If only she knew she was already driving him insane.

Din sighs, clearing his mind of distractions. They’re venturing into unknown territory, and they have to assume that there’s at least one person in the vicinity with the same magic hand as the kid.

He takes one look back to the Child and then to Cara, all traces of the jokes and teasing from earlier are gone, standing next to him is the ex-soldier and mercenary.

\----

As they approach what looks to be the entrance, Cara and Din notice numerous mounds of dirt resting in the shadow of the enclave, roughly the same size, each with a rock at the one end, all lined in rows, too many to count.

Their steps pause, looking to each other for confirmation, the same thoughts running through their minds. They both know what these are, without a doubt, but that doesn’t stop them from wishing it wasn’t true.

Even while standing in the shade, Din can still see the beginnings of tears in Cara’s eyes, but like before near the farm, she refuses to give in, refuses to let them fall, instead she takes deep breaths, steadying herself for what else is come. But Din couldn’t deny that his emotions were getting the better of him as well, his helmet hiding the deep scowl and clenched jaw.

He moves closer and kneels, one knee on the ground as he places a hand at the foot of the closest grave. Bowing his head in respect, silently apologizing for disturbing their rest.

Once on his feet, he feels Cara move to stand by his side, places a hand on his bicep and squeezes, offering what comfort she can, he moves his hand to cover hers, returning the gesture. This is all they can do for each other in this place, this haunting place.

They turn to make their way inside, and Din briefly thinks back to the bartender, to a comment he made _._

_“Some of us had even sent our own kids there, hoping they’d have a better future.”_

His fist tightens at the realization, that the bartender’s child is amongst those lying in the Jedi enclave, in the shadows of what once was.

\----

They step into the enclave and instantly feel the change in the air. Despite the temperatures of the warmer months, there’s a chill permeating, a coldness that feels out of place, sending a shiver down their spines, but ironically appropriate for the setting.

The room is large and round with high ceilings, undecorated except for a few large planter boxes and benches to greet them. A ramp to the left of the entrance appears to lead down to a sublevel of the building, with a ramp to the right to ascend.

Both Din and Cara jump when the Child makes a tiny squeak of surprise, mouth hanging open, ears perked, his eyes wide, and head slowly turning from side to side, as if he’s seeing or hearing something.

High on alert, they both scan the room for any threats, Din’s blaster drawn in his right hand, Cara’s also unholstered, her other hand poised for her blade.

“I don’t see anything. Do you? What is it _ad’ika_?” Din questions his companions in hushed tones.

“No, I got nothing. I don’t hear anything either. I think we’re alone. But what’s with the kid?” she replies, still tense, but slowly lowering her blaster.

Reluctantly, they both holster their weapons, and face the baby in his carrier. He’s ignoring the two, looking off towards the far-left end of the room, to what looks like a hallway. The Child briefly glances to his caretakers, a short coo, followed by a beat of silence, another coo.

It’s as if he’s speaking to something, or someone.

Neither know what to do, as if their current situation didn’t already have the Mandalorian on edge, he sure is now. How does someone handle their son hearing and speaking to voices only he can hear?

If that’s what happening at all. He never knows what to expect with this little one.

Cara is the first to voice her concerns, “So does he have magic ears and eyes, too? Not just magic hands? Because I have to say, I’d much rather he just makes his toys dance in the air like normal.”

“Me too. This is the first time he’s done something like this. Maybe, maybe it’s this place? I don’t know. If the people who lived here were special like him, maybe there’s something only they can see and hear?” Din rambles, trying to make sense of what’s going on. They haven’t even begun searching the enclave and he’s already being thrown sideways.

“Makes sense. He was looking towards that hallway at the far end of the room, right? Let’s head that way get and this party started, don’t ya think, Mandad?”

He huffs his agreement, “Yeah, let’s go. The more we can get done while the sun’s still out the better.”

They slowly make their way across the round room, cautious and observant. The windows allowing plenty of natural light to guide their path, some holes in the roof shining spotlights on small patches of the ground.

The hallway’s lack of windows only stops them long enough for Din to activate his helmet’s light and for Cara to retrieve her own and clip it place on the armor atop her left shoulder.

Din takes the lead while Cara brings up the rear, the toddler between them.

Unsurprisingly, the kid is still cooing and babbling intermittently, completely unfazed, no sign of fear or trepidation. It seems he’s the most comfortable of the three.

When they arrive at the end of the hallway, they’re greeted with another round central room, with similar ramps leading down to the sublevel and up to the top level. There are three shorter hallways, one leading to what appears to be a kitchen and general eating area, the second hallway inaccessible from the collapsed roof and debris blocking the path, and the third hallway leading to a rectangular room with high ceilings and windows. The far corner nothing but a pile of rubble, warm sunlight filtering its way into the room from behind the missing wall and roof.

The Child climbs down from his carrier, much to his father’s dismay, and slowly makes his way to the center of the third room, eyes scanning high and low. The adults follow the boy into the room, their own eyes taking in its features. There are armories along the walls, some broken and empty, others with contents strewn about haphazardly, as if someone was frantically in search of something.

Din lifts a broken wooden sword from the ground, eyeing it curiously, coupled with the soft padded training armor nearby, he surmises that these Jedi trained their young in combat, judging by the size of the armor and some of the shorter wooden swords. He was familiar with the concept, having sworn the Creed and beginning his training not long after being rescued by the Mandalorians himself. Gently setting weapon back to the ground he turns to see his son staring at something high on the wall, cooing softly.

The Mandalorian lifts his head and he sees it, a partially burnt tapestry hanging from the wall. It’s gently swaying from the warm breeze, but still proudly bearing a symbol, an insignia with what looks to be a sword in the middle, large wings on either side; the symbol of the Jedi.

Bending down on one knee next to the Child, Din speaks softly to him, “Is this what you wanted us to see, _ad’ika_? Is this the symbol of your people?”

The baby looks from the tapestry to his father, offering an affirmative chirp and quiet coo.

Din nods and gently brings a hand down to the boy’s back, softly stroking back and forth with his thumb, “We’ll find some answers here, somewhere.”

Cara is standing a little way behind the pair next to the floating carrier, not wanting to intrude on this important moment between father and son. She smiles affectionately at their backs, seeing their relationship evolve from their brief time on Sorgan to what it is now. The depths those two will go for each other, how much they love each other. Despite Din’s reluctance to verbalize his feelings, he doesn’t need to, his actions are more than enough to express how important this boy is to him.

She looks to the insignia as well, brow furrowing in concentration, a memory itching at the back of her mind, the symbol familiar somehow, but she can’t remember from when or where.

Taking one last hard look, committing the image to her memory, with a shake of her head she steps forward to join the pair.

The toddler’s ears perk again, and as if he’s listening intently before waddling to the collapsed corner of the room, standing at the foot of the giant pile of rubble and debris.

He makes a small squeak, and then he lifts both hands to the air in a familiar gesture.

The air stills and tenses, then slowly the pieces of the collapsed wall lift into the air, higher and higher, the Child’s eyes shut tightly in concentration.

Din and Cara look down to him in awe, no matter how many times they’ve see him use his abilities, it’s still unbelievable.

The two adults look to the pile, Cara is the first to see it, a gray metal box previously buried beneath the sheets of metal and stone.

She eyes the floating pieces as she makes a mad dash for the box, sprinting the short distance, grabbing the box and tucking it under one arm as she pivots to head back to safety.

Then it all happens so fast, almost in the blink of an eye.

Cara sees the boy’s arms shake with his effort to keep the rubble afloat, and her eyes widen when he collapses, falling backwards from exhaustion.

The next thing she knows, she’s diving for him, then something heavy crashes into her shoulder as she lands on her hands and knees. She drops to her stomach to curl around the kid, to shield him from the metal and stone crashing down around them like an avalanche, and there’s suddenly a heavy weight on her back and something pushing her head down to the ground with shards flying in all directions as the room shakes and thunders.

\----

Cara doesn’t know how long it takes for her senses to return.

There’s a faint ringing in her ears, and she still feels a heavy weight on her back and legs. She tenses, fearing she’s pinned under debris.

As she slowly lifts herself to her elbows and tries to bring her knees under her, the weight on her back groans painfully before speaking.

“Wait… hold on. Stop. Let me up first,” Din whines, muttering to himself as he slowly removes himself from Cara and the kid. Rising to his feet is a struggle, he’s still seeing double and he can’t quite catch his balance.

“Din?! What the hell? Are you hurt?” Cara exclaims as she’s finally able to situate herself in an upright position, gray box left on the floor in favor of cradling the unconscious child.

Another groan meets her ears followed by his characteristic sigh of exasperation, “As soon as you and kid hit the deck, I covered you as fast as I could. You were faster getting to him than I was when he dropped the debris. The beskar was able to deflect anything from doing too much damage, but I’m ok. More importantly, are either of you injured? How is he?”

Cara stands, still cradling the baby, looking down at his sleeping face, “No, I’m ok. He is too from the looks of it. Look at this little punk,” she chuckles quietly, “Nearly gets us all killed, and he has the audacity to snore through the entire thing.”

They look to the child in question who is indeed asleep while his guardians double-check him and themselves for injuries, his button nose twitching with each snore.

“Whatever’s in that box must be important if he led us here to find it,” Din explains as he picks it from the ground, turning it over in his hands as he examines the dull casing. It’s a plain gray metal rectangular box, dented on some edges, but intact for the most part.

He unclips the fastening on the front, and opens the lid with one hand, the box creaking.

As soon as Din opens it, his son squirms in his sleep, tossing and turning in Cara’s arms before he finally opens his eyes, sleepily blinking away his exhaustion, and fixes his attention to the open box in his father’s hand with a long coo.

Together the three examine the contents, nestled in a cushion of dark fabric is a what appears to be a long silver and black cylindrical object with burgundy embellishments.

The Mandalorian carefully removes it from the container and examines the heavy metal item. It’s ornate in its craftsmanship, sleek lines and bold colors, with a sturdy rubber lined grip on one half. It fits perfectly in his hand, a steady, almost comforting weight as he grips it tight with one hand, and then with both.

He’s reminded of the wooden practice swords he discovered earlier and notices the hilt of those blades are nearly identical in shape and size to the metal in his hands. Relaxing his grip, slowly rotates the object and to his surprise, there’s an activator switch.

Looking to Cara and the Child, he sees they’re watching him intently, Cara’s face is scrunched in confusion and skepticism, the little one’s eyes are as wide as he’s ever seen them, pointy ears raised in attention, arms almost reaching out to grab what’s in his father’s hands.

Din nods to the pair, taking a few steps back and raising a hand to Cara indicating she do the same. Once a safe distance, he holds the item at an arm’s length and with a simple push of his finger, slides the switch.

The moment he flicks the switch, a beam of silver light and heat erupt from one end with an unfamiliar crackle. Cara and Din jump in surprise, Cara tightening her hold on the toddler. Both unsure of what to make of this new discovery.

“What the hell _is_ that thing?” The ex-soldier asks.

“I don’t know, but… I think it might be a blade of some sort, a weapon,” Din states, lifting his head to look to the tapestry of the Jedi insignia, he raises his hand holding the light beam, “See, doesn’t this look similar to the one there? I think maybe this was the Jedi’s weapon.”

“Kind of looks like a vibrosword, now that you mention it. But what can it cut? What happens if we touch it?”

The armored man contemplates Cara’s question for a moment, “Hmm, one way to find out,” he looks to the nearby pile of rubble and debris that nearly crushed them not too long ago, grips the beam hilt tightly in both hands above his head and swings downward with force.

The blade slices through the metal and stone with ease, leaving behind a burning, scorching path in its wake.

Din takes a few more experimental swings as well as thrusting and downward stabbing maneuvers, the motions smooth as he recalls the drills he learned years ago back on Mandalore.

Once satisfied, he returns to the Child and Cara, the blade still glowing brightly in his hand. Holding it between the three, it casts a white-silver glow on their faces, the baby’s eyes reflecting the light brilliantly, reverently, as if he’s been waiting for this moment.

It’s only when the toddler’s hands reach out for the hilt, does Din deactivate the blade, “Think again, _ad’ika_. If this thing can burn through metal and stone, you don’t stand a chance. I’ll let you have it when you’re older, and only with proper training.”

With a miserable chirp and depressed ears, the baby pouts at his father.

Cara scoffs at them, “Proper training? Do _you_ even know to use that thing? One wrong move, and you can probably cut yourself in half.”

Din shoots her a glare beneath his helmet, “I was trained with blades when I was younger. While not my preferred method of combat, I do know how to use them. This though… I’m not familiar with it enough to use it in battle. We’ll keep it locked up for now, away from curious hands,” he looks to the baby as he says this, and said baby looks only slightly offended.

\----

When they reach the top level of the enclave, the sun is nearing the horizon, signaling nightfall will soon be upon them.

This level is much smaller than the one below, consisting of only one large circular room with walls of shattered windows and a partially collapsed balcony. The only furnishings are the half dozen overturned armchairs forming a haphazard semi-circle.

Cara carefully makes her way out to the balcony, searching for something of use, but she doubts she’ll find anything here. There’s nothing but weeds growing from the cracks in the floor and stray shards of glass littering the area.

What does catch her attention is the beautiful view of the horizon and setting sun, from the balcony she can see the canyons in the distance and how they’re bathed in a red hue, the sky is a mixture of red and orange, and just a touch of dark blue bringing the night. She can even see the some of the stars beginning to peek through.

It reminds her of home.

She turns away before the ache in her chest can grab hold, she’s had enough of that lately.

Looking down over the edge of the balcony, she sees the remains of the destruction the Empire brought down all those years ago. The rows of graves, the patches of grounds below blown apart from the bombs, even the parts of the enclave turned to rubble. Then there’s their speeder on the outskirts of the grounds, completely out of place amongst all the ruin.

The thought occurs to her, that this entire place is like one giant grave, for the Jedi and their way of life, and here they are digging through it, piece by piece. She knows they have good reason, but it still leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

\----

There’s not much to take in or explore, the only thing of interest is a lone terminal with a cracked screen, covered in vegetation.

Din is picking off the stray weeds and vines with a quick swipe of his hand when Cara returns from the balcony, stroking the baby’s head as she passes him in his carrier.

He glances to her, “Anything out there?”

She shakes her head, “Nope, nothing. How about in here?”

“Just this old terminal. I’m trying to figure out if it’s still operational,” he says lightly as he begins pushing buttons and flipping switches.

Nothing. Not even a flicker on the screen.

The ex-trooper crosses her arms, and leans one hip against the edge of the terminal, eyebrow quirked, “Maybe we should try hitting it? That might get it to work.”

Din turns to her, a beat of silence passes between the two, before he shakes and head and sighs.

“Don’t make that face at me, Djarin. It works with people all the time, rough them up a little, and they sing like birds.”

“I’m not making a face; it’s not like you can see it anyway. And no, they’re not even remotely the same. If we damage the terminal, we could be losing important information,” Din says as he crouches, balancing on the balls of his feet so he can duck his head under the terminal in an attempt to open the paneling, maybe fix the wiring.

He’s still trying to pry open the panel when he hears two loud thuds from above. He instantly shoots up, back to his feet and rounding on Cara, “Hey!”

Her shit eating grin is all he needs to see, “You were saying?”

The terminal is on, screen flickering with static around the edges, but functioning. Barely.

Another exasperated sigh, “I stand by what I said.”

She laughs lightly next to him, “You’re welcome, Mando.”

“…Thank you.”

The Mandalorian then looks through the terminal’s sparse files, one of the more recent files is an emergency communications broadcast dated 28 years ago.

One click, and the vid plays. It’s filled with static and audio feedback, making it difficult to hear what’s going on.

_A female Twilek stands in front of the terminal, eyes frantic, smoke from somewhere outside visible through the windows behind her, loud screams in the distance._

_“This is Master… of the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine! Does… copy?! …under attack! I repeat… -tack! -eed reinforcements and emergen- …evacuation transport!”_

_An explosion rocks the building, knocking the Twilek off balance, gripping the edge of the terminal to stay standing. She’s shouting to something or someone offscreen, words indiscernible, desperation and fear apparent as tears stream down her face._

_“ -by Clone troopers, they’re executing Je- … -king younglings! Please, we need help!”_

_She looks frantically from side to side, some kind of commotion catching her attention._

_Through the window, a group of six troopers drop from above, descending their ropes with their blasters ready. They fire, shattering the glass, startling the Twilek, she dashes for cover behind the closest armchair. She removes something from her waist, then a blue beam emerges from her hand as she jumps over her cover to face the troopers._

_She’s gaining ground, blaster shots flying in all directions as she twirls the blue blade, deflecting their fire just as easily as beskar. With a swift raise of her hand, three clones are thrown through the air over the balcony’s edge, disappearing out of sight._

_Those remaining continue their assault, one tackles the Jedi to the ground in an attempt to disarm her, but she plunges her blade through his chest, hurling his body aside as she dives for cover once more. More troopers drop from the sky as another explosion rattles the enclave, sending the Twilek tumbling from her cover, grip on the blade lost as it deactivates and skids across the floor._

_Weapon out of reach, the Jedi Master tries to escape to the hallway to the right, raising her hands to throw an armchair towards the group as a distraction, but she doesn’t get very far._

_A small explosive charge lands at her side as she’s running amidst blaster fire, sending her careening wildly into the terminal._

The file ends, screen turning to black, Din and Cara’s reflections staring back in silence.

Cara is the first to speak, “Are there anymore files we can access?” she asks him quietly.

A few clicks later, “Yeah, just this one here. It’s dated after the emergency broadcast, it’s unopened. But according to the file, it was an incoming message. Dammit, I think the audio is corrupted, all we can get is a visual.”

_A Human man with brown hair and beard is standing in a light-colored tunic and oversized brown robes, a grave expression on his face. He speaks for only about a minute or so before he looks down to his side._

_Another figure emerges, only a fraction the height of the bearded man._

_He’s holding a small wooden cane in his tri-clawed hand to support a hunching body, dressed similarly in a tunic and robes much too big, the heavily wrinkled green creature with its long-pointed ears and head of white hair speaks a few words before the image cuts out._

Again, Cara is the first to find her voice amongst the onslaught of new information, she bites her lip before turning to Din.

“Was that what I think it was? It looked like the kid. A lot older, but that’s…” she trails off, unable to find the rest of her words.

“Another of his species, yeah. Looks like it,” he swallows thickly, replaying the vid, and pausing when the green creature emerges.

Din turns from the terminal, looking to his _ad’ika_.

The toddler is clutching his stuffed toy, but is staring off into space, eyes unfocused as he lets out soft coos.

He must be hearing things again.

The Mandalorian approaches his son, and gently pulls him into his arms. Father and son make their way to the terminal, Cara eyeing them with apprehension.

Din adjusts the child in his arms and sets him down to face the screen, lifting a hand, the Mandalorian points to the green figure, “ _Ad’ika_ , do you know him? Does he seem familiar to you?”

The little one is quiet, eyes absorbing the features on the screen, he shuffles closer, his father’s hand on his back to steady him, the baby places one clawed hand on the screen, head tilting in silent contemplation.

Suddenly the toddler turns from the image and raises his arms to his father.

Din immediately gathers him, holding him close, “What is it? Are you alright?” a hint of panic lacing his voice.

All he receives in response is a soft garble and coo.

Then two clawed hands are reaching out for him, the tips brushing against a silver helmet. The man dips his head, allowing his son to cradle as much of his face as he could.

\----

A small lantern illuminates their rest area on the top level of the Jedi enclave.

They didn’t need it though, the stars up above in the cloudless sky are bathing the enclave and its grounds in a beautiful, soft light.

Cara and the Child sit on the floor of the balcony, a safe distance from the collapsed edges.

Wanting to give Din privacy to eat his own meal, she took the toddler from his carrier earlier and sat him in her lap, his blanket wrapped loosely to fight off the slight chill of the night air.

With her back against the wall, they face the plains and canyons of Dantooine, just beyond the enclave’s borders. Cara breaks off tiny pieces of the baby’s loaf of bread from the market and feeds him piece by piece, her own set aside for a later time.

She takes solace in embracing the baby, eyes looking to the galaxy laid out above them, tiny white lights peppering a black canvas, trillions of lives inhabiting the vast expanse, but not one can seem to give them what they seek.

Their day ends with more questions asked than answered and holding something solid and real gives her a small reprieve from the bleak truths of their predicament.

The rustle of cloth and clink of metal to her left break her train of thought.

Cara looks up just in time to watch Din carefully sit himself next to her with a tired groan, setting his rifle on his opposite side, the day’s events catching up to him.

He looks to her and the tired baby trying in vain to stay awake, big brown eyes blinking sleepily, “You didn’t eat yet?” he asks Cara, helmet nodding in the direction of her food.

“No, not yet. Got lost in my head for a while, I guess,” she says quietly, gently rocking the toddler cradled in her arms.

Din hums in understanding, “I can take him if you want?”

She declines his offer with a shake of her head, “It’s ok, just a little while longer and we can put him in the carrier. I’ll eat after.”

Silence falls between the two, the baby’s quiet snores the only sound filling the void.

His helmet pointing to the stars, Cara tilts her head towards him just a fraction, voice as soft as the light breeze, “I can feel you thinking.”

It’s almost as if she can see him trying to organize his thoughts, make sense of whatever mess it is they’ve stepped into.

“I just… There’s so much, I have all these questions, about him, about the Jedi, even the Empire. Why does the Empire want him? If they’re the ones who killed the Jedi all those years ago, why hunt him now?”

The memory of finding the Child strapped to a table with that doctor and droid hovering over him. The images never fail to bring the full weight of his guilt back, making his chest ache.

He lowers his head, eyes fixing to a crack on the floor, “What if he’s the last one? What if the Empire did kill all of them, and now he’s alone in… in all this?”

Something in his voice tells her that he’s not just talking about the boy, and the thought makes her stomach knot.

Cara finally turns to him, the silver moonlight reflecting off his armor, casting him in an ethereal glow, and she feels as if she’s almost caught in a spell.

She’s reminded of a story her father would tell her as a child; of souls lingering in the stillness of the night, bodies long forgotten with time as they wander the earth searching for remnants of their previous life.

If she didn’t know that someone was underneath the beskar, she’d have thought him that mystical being, a wandering spirit in search of purpose, a place to call home.

She chooses her words carefully, “We don’t know anything for sure, there could be survivors, that’s one of the reasons we’re here, remember? And Din… he’s not alone. He’s got you, and he’s got me. Whatever happens, Jedi or not, he’ll always have us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used details from Star Wars: KOTOR for this chapter, so I hope I did the game justice! I'm thinking one more chapter on Dantooine, but it won't be smooth sailing for our heroes.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed! Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! So...this is my first fanfic ever, please bear with me as I try to navigate the whole writing thing!
> 
> This first chapter is a bit slow, but I needed to lay the groundwork for what I have in mind. Hope you've enjoyed!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com) 😁


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